


It’s a Kind of Magic

by cassandrasfisher, hopespym



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brock Rumlow is a good guy, Clint Barton-centric, Idiots in Love, Kidnapping, M/M, Oblivious Clint Barton, gets a bit dim but it picks up, honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-10 00:49:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20126620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassandrasfisher/pseuds/cassandrasfisher, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopespym/pseuds/hopespym
Summary: There had always been tales of something… More in the universe than what humanity was aware of.But really, that’s all that they were.Just tales.Or maybe Clint should have known better than to expect that his life was anything ordinary.





	It’s a Kind of Magic

**Author's Note:**

> this was my first winterhawk big bang entry and it really pushed me in terms of how much needed to be written, but i’m happy with the end results!
> 
> special thanks to cassandrasfisher for the amazing art and to bigstarkenergy for being the best beta reader.

There had always been tales of something… More in the universe than what humanity was aware of.

But really, that’s all that they were.

Just tales.

Or maybe Clint should have known better than to expect that his life was anything ordinary.

Clint hummed as he unlocked the door to the apartment, a smile on his face as he could hear claws scraping across the floor. Lucky was always quick to greet him when he got home and he was glad that today wasn’t any different.

He opened the door and immediately crouched down to meet Lucky’s excited jumping. Clint scratched his stomach rubbed behind his ears before standing up and making his way around the apartment to collapse onto the couch.

Lucky followed and jumped on top of him, which caused Clint to let out a groan, but he didn’t bother trying to move. He was comfortable and after working all day, he really couldn’t be bothered into doing more than simply flopping straight down on the couch.

Maybe Bucky wouldn’t mind doing just about everything for Clint tonight.

He sank deeper into the couch as he wondered if he should try to fall asleep like this, or if he should wait for Bucky to come home to see if there was anything important they were doing with the rest of their night, or if they could lounge on the couch all night and not have to worry about a thing.

He sighed and pulled out his phone to check the time. It was just past 5pm and Clint found himself hoping that Bucky would come home soon. It was probably stupid to miss his boyfriend so much, especially since he had last seen Bucky just this morning, but Bucky had just gotten back from a trip to who knows where after being away for 2 weeks and Clint just wanted to spend some time with his boyfriend before he went away on another work trip.

Bucky didn’t go quite as often as he used to, but they seemed to be longer trips now. Additionally, he always came back bruised and exhausted to the bone, but Clint chalked it up to him being a teacher for martial arts classes, like Bucky was. 

It was actually pretty cool that he got to travel for his job and Clint never minded as long as Bucky came home to him in the end, and he always did.

Before he knew it, Clint realized he must’ve gotten caught up in his own thoughts for too long, because the door was opening and Lucky was pouncing off his stomach and sprinting for it like his life depended on it.

Which, judging by the smell of pizza that wafted in, Clint could only assume that Lucky’s life did, in fact, depend on the door being opened in the next 5 seconds.

Clint’s bones clicked as he heaved himself up into a sitting position. He stood up, and quickly walked over to help Bucky at the door. His boyfriend greeted him with a smile and a quick kiss before walking into the lounge and putting the pizza boxes on the coffee table.

“Well hello handsome.”

“Well hello sweetheart.”

The two grinned at each other sappily before Clint leaned in to get another, longer kiss from his boyfriend, which Bucky happily obliged.

“I hope you know that we’re doing absolutely nothing tonight,” Clint added after pulling away. He was far too tired to do more than lie in bed, eat greasy, cheesy pizza, and cuddle before eventually falling asleep with tomato sauce still on his face.

Bucky laughed and shook his head slightly. “Honestly?” he said, smiling, “I’m exhausted too. That sounds perfect.”

Clint’s main job was working at an archery shop. He taught lessons to all those who wanted and sold supplies as well, essentially running the place himself along with the help of Kate Bishop, someone who claimed to be better at shooting than he was, despite the fact that everytime they faced off against each other it always ended in a tie by Clint winning (albeit just barely.)

Kate had already left for home because it had been a slow night for the two of them, so Clint was left alone. It was just about twenty minutes before closing when a man Clint didn’t recognize came walking in, looking around at the different arrows and bows that were on display and for sale. 

“Can I help you?” Clint made sure to keep his tone friendly even though he desperately wanted to go home and knock off. The man looked interested enough that he might actually buy something, rather than the teenagers or hipsters who came in just to “look at the cool bows!”

The man looked towards Clint and his eyes seemed to stare through Clint before they smoothed over and he looked towards the bows again. “Just having a look,” he offered up in a gruff voice, “Thinking of trying out a new sport.”

Clint nodded. “Archery’s a good way to let go of pent up emotions, you focus on one thing, one target and then just…,” he blew some air out of his mouth, “let go. Let me know if you need anything, I’d be happy to help.”

Clint turned and walked back to the counter to continue filling out some forms for shipments. They’d had an influx of customers lately, so he needed to order some new padding for the targets. When he came back to check out if the man had found something he wanted to buy, Clint looked around and realized that the man had already left. It was sort of strange, but Clint excused it with nothing more than an absent thought.

_ Huh. Weird guy. _

Huh. Weird guy, alright.

The man had come in the next week again, had another look around, but still hadn’t bought anything. Kate had been in the shop this time though, and when she had asked him if he needed any help, he hadn’t told her more than what he had already told Clint.

“I’m off on my break, old man!”

“Didn’t you have your break already?”

Kate groaned good naturedly, “That was yesterday! I think you’re becoming forgetful in your old age.”

Clint laughed and nudged her with his shoulder, knowing damn well that she had already taken her break two hours before. But work was slow and he was the boss, so with a smile he nudged her firmer in the direction of the break room, not bothering to say anything.

She made her way up the stairs with a quick finger gun salute and then it was just Clint and a couple of other customers who were trying to decide between what products and plans to sign up for. The door opened only a mere couple of minutes later, and when Clint looked up, he realized it was the same guy from before. It was starting to get worrying, the way he kept coming back and not buying anything, so Clint walked over. 

“Hey, are you looking to purchase anything today, or are you still just looking?” Clint asked, his tone considerably less friendly than before.

The man smiled at Clint, but it didn’t look like it fit right on his face, as if he was unfamiliar with the motion. “I’ll just get this mini bow and arrow set,” he answered shortly, “Thank you.”

Hesitantly, like it might explode or have been tampered with somehow, Clint took the set from his hands before going and ringing it up. The man left with another smile and Clint couldn’t help but shudder.

It didn’t help that when he told Bucky about the man later, his boyfriend got tight lipped and angry without explaining why to Clint.

Based on the events of the past couple of weeks, what with the whole ‘creepy guy coming into my business and then not getting anything until the third time and even then only getting a mini bow and arrow set’, if there were any time for something to go wrong, Clint really thought it would happen when he finished work or something. Maybe when he was working late, or something like that.

He never would have expected it to be a Sunday morning when he wanted to surprise Bucky with breakfast in bed. He’d tried to cook, but they had no eggs, so he had to go down to the grocery store and buy some.

Sure, maybe he would have burnt the eggs anyway, but at least he wouldn’t be tied up and conked out in the back of a strangers car.

This is what he got for trying to be a good boyfriend.

“What do you know of your friends?”

Clint had been feeling out of the loop ever since he had been shoved into the trunk of a car and given some type of drug that had him unconscious within record time. They had kept him on a constant stream of that same drug, so it had rendered him essentially useless.

So that was probably the reason it took Clint a couple of minutes to realise he was being spoken to. He let his head lull to the side, exhaustion seeping into every fiber of his being and if he didn’t have complete and utter faith that his friends would be able to get him out, he might have given up.

“What friends?”

“Don’t play coy.”

He rolled his eyes minutely, but couldn’t help the hiss that escaped when he accidentally jerked his hand, the metal of the handcuff digging into a cut that was sure to get infected. Fucking bad guys. Clint knew they had to be dicks, but did they really have to be...this dickish? 

“No, really. I don’t think Lucky’s going to be much help to me.”

He heard a frustrated groan from the man who was in the room with him and he opened his eyes to see the man bringing a chair right in front of him, sitting on it backwards as he leaned forward. It was like they were sharing some kind of secret.

“Your friends. James Buchanan Barnes. You know him for certain, yes?”

He paused as if waiting for a response, but before he could start talking again, the door opened and another person walked up to him before whispering something in his ear. The mans face flickered from angry to neutral within a second as he made a signal, the newcomer scurrying back out.

“Well. They’re really pulling out all the stops to get you. You must be someone important to them.”

“Listen, buddy. I still don’t know who ‘them’ is, so if you could stop being so cryptic and start explaining-”

Before he could finish his sentence, there was a strong backhanded slap delivered to the side of his face and he couldn’t help the groan that left his lips. He didn’t bother raising his head, instead choosing to keep it down, knowing how weak he must look, but not caring. Fuck, that had hurt.

“Your James has brought some powerful allies with him. He must have known that we only took you to get to him, but there was no way he could have been able to tell just how easy it was to take you from him, nor will he see how easy it will be for us to capture him and his friends before it’s too late.”

The man paused, his thumb a constant thumping noise as he tapped it against the chair without any rhythm before he continued to talk. His words sounded slow, like he were wondering just how much he could tell Clint.

“He had brought some powerful allies indeed. Steven Rogers, all too easily persuaded by James. Natalia Romanova, who can never remove the red no matter how much she tries. Brock Rumlow will follow wherever Natalia goes, and with the funding of Tony Stark, well.” The man smiled, and it looked sinister, wrong somehow, like he’d stolen it from someone else.

“Very powerful. But very stupid. Too loyal, too quick… We only needed one more piece to the puzzle,” the man continued, studying Clint with that same sick smile. The man seemed to snap out of the daze he was in, though, and spoke clearer, louder. “Luckily for us, we got wind of a...what do you call it? A weakness.”

Clint could feel a headache from all that he had just been told, even though he knew that half of it was bullshit. Sure, he had valid points about each of his friends, but surely they would take more time to prepare now that it was not only Clint’s but their lives on the line.

Surely they realised that this was a trap. They must have.

If not, Clint thought dimly to himself, then maybe they did deserve this.

“They’re gonna kick your ass, man.”

The man laughed and stood from his seat, like he knew that Clint was having doubts. “They can try, but I doubt they’ll succeed,” the man said, eyeing Clint with that same disturbing stare.

Clint huffed and slumped further against the wall, closing his eyes again. He was too tired to even try to act like he had any energy or fight left. The first week or so or however long it had been had really taken it out of him.

The man left the room after that, leaving Clint alone with his thoughts. He sighed and curled in on himself and decided to try to get some sleep.

Who knows how much longer he was going to be stuck here.

Fuck.

He missed Lucky. He missed Kate. He missed his bed. And more than anything, truly anything, Clint missed Bucky.

He just wanted to go  _ home _ .

  
  


When he had been first taken by whoever the fuck these guys were, he realised they were more than just the usual kidnappers. 

For one, they didn’t immediately start with the threatening or the torture or anything else that he was expecting when he found himself surrounded in a completely new place that was the total opposite of his apartment that he shared with Bucky.

They probably hadn’t really cared what happened to him in those first couple of weeks, thinking that Bucky was just going to come alone, with no plan, with no care apart from getting Clint out.

And sure, Clint had been worried about that too - he knew how possessive his boyfriend could get and  _ fuck _ , he definitely wasn’t going to be allowed to go anywhere alone for the forseeable future - but as the days dragged and dragged, it seemed like his boyfriend had actually used his brain for once.

That was when things went wrong for Clint.

They seemed to tire of having him around doing nothing, so they started to take him into a room that he had no idea where it was. Each time he woke in the room, they seemed to prefer to take him when he was asleep so that he couldn’t get any ideas about the building they were keeping him in.

Smart. Annoying (for Clint), but smart.

He seemed to pass out between whatever they were injecting and taking from his body. Once when he was barely awake, bone deep exhaustion in his bones and an overall groggy mental state, Clint noticed a glowing green being transferred from a highly protected glass container into a tube.

In the next burst that he was awake, all he could remember was a searing pain spreading through his body. He couldn’t hear very well, but he could feel the vibrations of something loud and heavy. 

He didn’t realise it was his own screams until he woke up, back in the dark and dim room and feeling like complete and utter shit. His voice a wreck, his spirit continuing to dwindle.

It didn’t help that he didn’t quite feel…like himself.

He wasn’t quite sure how to describe how he felt, he just knew that it felt like something had awakened beneath his skin, like it was crawling through his blood, trying to escape.

That was something they had in common anyway.

He felt like he was going stir crazy, he needed to get out of here and he needed to do it quickly. It was too bad that he had already spent the first couple of days trying to escape but to no avail, otherwise he might have had some form of hope.

  
  


He woke up on the firm table he had come to associate with the lab or whatever they dragged him too every opportunity they could. His mind felt hazy, like he was there without being there. Like he was floating, trying to be blissfully unaware but still feeling the pain that came with every breath he took.

God.

He wasn’t going to last much longer.

Except… 

Except it had already seemed easier to breath lately, and though he wasn’t sure how, he couldn’t help but be thankful for the slight ease it brought. It still hurt, his sides killed him most of the time, but it wasn’t as bad as it had been before.

He couldn’t help the whimpers that escaped him as he felt poking and prodding. Someone lifted up his right wrist and he almost opened his mouth to complain that it already hurt and not to touch it, but he looked and found that it had almost completely healed.

It almost looked like there had been nothing in its place and before he could think too hard about that, there was a stinging sensation down his leg and he opened his mouth with a silent cry of pain.

“All previous bruises are healed. Small inflictions fade almost instantly, deeper ones take longer.”

“Good. We’re going to be testing for a while. Make sure you record everything.”

“Do you want us to give him another dose?”

He didn’t know who the voices belonged to nor what they were talking about and he only wished that they could be quieter. Their voices sounded like screams, but the stinging pain in his leg was fading quickly to a less painful numb sensation. He still couldn’t help but let out a couple of leg jerks, involuntary as they were.

“Why not? With enough, maybe this will work for more than just him.”

“Hey! Let me go!”

Clint furrowed an eyebrow as he looked up from where he was scratching into the floor with a stone he found a couple of days previous.

Suddenly there was a shadow overhead and someone was being thrown into the room with him. The body landed on his own, either a deliberate ploy to remind Clint of his place or Clint’s own fault for being too slow in moving his body.

Not that he was sure he would be able to anyway, he barely had any strength in his body by this stage.

“Just like I told you. Too dumb, too loyal.”

The man walked away with a laugh, and the body above Clint’s own groaned and Clint stiffened when the words soaked in. With a hitched breath, he sat up straight and rolled the body on top of his over. It was hard to distinguish features in the dark, but Clint could take a guess.

“Brock?”

“Been a long time, Barton.”

Clint huffed and moved back to his wall, giving Brock some space that he probably needed if the way he was wheezing was any indication.

“Felt longer.”

Brock hummed in reply and sat up beside Clint. He reached into the bottom of his shoe and offered Clint a vial of liquid, “Drink this. Help will be here soon.”

Had it been any other circumstance, Clint probably would have had a million questions. He would have asked Brock how he got here, how he knew where Clint was, what the liquid was, and whatever else he could think of.

But Bucky had sent Brock. He knew it. Which meant that Brock was to be trusted, that there was a plan.

So Clint took the vial without hesitation, and even though he still had no idea what it was going to do to him, he drank it anyway.

It couldn’t be worse than what was happening to him here anyway.

Now, in the past month or so, Clint had woken up in some pretty unfamiliar places without so much as an explanation.

To wake up on an actual bed was something that Clint was afraid would never happen again.

“God Clint, I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” 

There were other voices as well, the ones that all seemed to blend into one. Shouting, whispering, talking loudly, right near him and far away they all blended into one.

One voice always stood out though, and it was always apologising, promising for a clearer future.

Promising that secrets would be secrets no more.

“But you need to wake up. Please.”

Clint also had hazy memories of things that didn’t feel like his own.

They felt like he was seeing them through someone else's eyes, but they most certainly weren’t his. Clint concentrated on the feelings he was experiencing. There was a certain vibration, like a bomb was going off, mixed with the adrenaline and anticipation that whoever Clint was viewing from felt.

That was mainly what he got, feelings, emotions. Not thoughts.

Suddenly all at once, he got a clear picture of a thing he had never seen before charging right at him. It had green and red armour around it and horns sticking out, though they seemed more for show than anything else.

There was a vibration in his left arm, and when he looked down he saw a burst of light blue come shooting out. He felt satisfaction, he felt victorious, but it wasn’t his. It wasn’t really his emotions.

He didn’t even know if they were real.

“ _ I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. _ ”

Waking up was a lot more natural this time.

He didn’t feel any pain, nothing really hurt. He didn’t really feel anything apart from relief to be alive. Inhaling was the best thing that he ever felt and he almost sobbed in relief that there wasn’t any lingering pain, that it just felt like taking a breath.

He continued to lay with his eyes closed for a moment, trying to see if he could tell anything about his surroundings without giving it away that he was awake.

There was a noise beside him that make him think the jig was up anyway.

It was brighter than he thought inside the room and it was such a stark contrast from what he had been seeing in the recent times that it shocked him for a moment, blinking a couple of times to gain focus.

He idly lifted up his right hand, hoping to see some scar that was left there, but it was completely clear of any scars. Even the scar that he remembered getting from Bucky during one of their play fights when he knocked his pinky on the side of a table was gone and damn if that didn’t freak him out.

Maybe he was delirious and this was all a dream. Stranger things had happened.

That would be so much easier than acknowledging the truth. The truth that Clint had been kidnapped, tortured, pumped full of… some sort of substance, and that he seemed to heal from almost anything - not that he wanted to test that theory at all.

Turning his head to the side he saw Bucky’s sleeping figure and let out a sigh of relief. 

He knew how Bucky got when Clint was hurt in any way and now it was going to be ten times worse, so Clint was content to let his partner sleep for the time being, knowing that when he woke, he wouldn’t be able to get rid of him very easy.

“Barton, you doing okay?”

The whispered voice shocked him and he turned his head to the other side to see Brock there, looking a little bit scathed, Natasha was sleeping beside him. He nodded minutely and relaxed into the bed, “What happened?”

Brock’s mouth set in a hard line and his eyes swept over to Bucky’s sleeping form before making eye contact with Clint again, “Your boy will want to tell you himself.”

Clint merely nodded and closed his eyes, “Get some rest, Rumlow. You look like shit.”

“Yeah? Well I don’t know what service they were giving you, but we don’t all come out of torture looking neater than when we went in.”

Yeah. Maybe it was better to just ignore the whole situation.

Unluckily for Clint, his loving boyfriend was not on the same page.

“Are you going to make me talk about this?”

Sure, he got a noncommittal shrug in reply, but he had been with the man far too long and been friends with him longer to be blind to what he really meant. Which was, of course,  _ as soon as we both feel that you’re up to it, we are absolutely talking about this _ .

Really, Clint was actually lucky that Bucky loved him so much to care like this, but it still didn’t mean it wasn’t annoying. 

It turned out that Clint had been captured for just over a month and a half and that Bucky had recruited the help of his friends ASAP, but that there were a lot more fakes than they had anticipated, even if it was a trap.

“-We tried to come as soon as we could, but obviously it wasn’t soon enough. I’m just sorry that things got as bad as they did. No. I’m sorry that they had to happen in the first place. It never should have happened, not to you.”

“One of the guys asked what I know of you… of our friends... What did he mean?”

Bucky’s face grew tight for a moment before he dropped his head into his hands. He rubbed his face before looking back up at Clint, with a somber expression. “What do you know about magic?” he asked, face grim.

“If it’s so well known, how come I’ve never heard of it before?”

Bucky let out a groan, huffing and turning around to face Clint, a hard expression on his face that made Clint curl into himself a little. Bucky noticed and stood a little stiffer, taking a deep breath before he exhaled and loosened.

He walked up to Clint and cupped his face in his hands, an earnest expression on his face like he was pleading for Clint to listen. 

Which, to be fair, Clint  _ was _ trying to listen.

“It’s common knowledge for those who are in the know. It’s not safe for every single person to know every single thing about magic and the users. Different powers have different stories, different places in the world have different theories,” he paused for a moment, “Children are usually the most widespread believers. 

“They see things that most adults simply ignore, they have the imagination to be able to make the connections. For most of them, once they start growing up, that’s when the belief stops. It transfers from generation to generation though. Some generations believe more than others, but there are always believers.”

“And then there’s you.”

Bucky smiled at Clint, but his hands slipped away and he tugged his jacket tighter around himself. “And then there’s me,” he said, voice steady and resigned before looking back up at Clint with something softer in his eyes. “I’ll explain later. We need to get you to safety.”

Clint almost opened his mouth to let out another truth, but even in this moment, where Bucky’s own secrets were starting to spill over the top, it seemed too much all at once.

As Bucky took Clint’s hand in his own and continued walking down the tunnel, Clint steeled himself for the fight that was about to come.

Tried to, anyway.

“No, I want to go with you.”

Bucky turned and faced Clint, a sour expression on his face as he shook his head, “No.”

“Buck-”

“Clint! I’m not letting you come out in the condition that you’re in. You are not fit to fight, you’ve just been captured and sure, you look fine, but we don’t know how you are on the inside.”

“I’m fine! I’ll feel worse if I didn’t go with you, you know that.”

And sure, it wasn’t that big of a confrontation and Bucky’s fears were very real and valid, but Clint knew he had to go. So he didn’t back down when Bucky made eye contact with him, an intense sort of fury behind them, like he knew that he had to keep Clint safe.

With a groan, Bucky stalked forward and cupped Clint’s jaw in his hands. When he spoke, it was barely a whisper, against Clint’s lips. “You know I just want to keep you safe.”

“And you know I want to know you’re okay.”

Bucky huffed, “Feel like I should be saying that to you, doll. You’ve been through hell and back, I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Buck. I just spent the last month and a half drifting in and out of consciousness. All I want is to see Lucky, to eat some fucking pizza, and to go home and sleep for a million years. I’ve been tortured all for you. You know what I did when I woke up alone on the floor of a cell? I thought about you. And your stupid laugh and your stupid hair and your even stupider voice. I thought about you. That’s how I even  _ survived _ for you to rescue me. So if you think, for a damn second, Barnes, that I’m not coming with you, you’ve got another thing coming.” Bucky was silent for a while. Clint knew that he was probably thinking of a million ways to say no, but Bucky’s hands were warm and gentle as he held Clint’s face. He hadn’t been touched this gently in a month and a half. Eventually though, Clint could feel something break inside his chest and he barely managed to whisper, “Buck, please,” his voice cracking on the last syllable. 

He could tell that Bucky was caving. He sucked in a quick breath before exhaling, eyeing Clint with a wary expression. “Fine.”

Clint couldn’t help the wobbly grin that spread across his face. He leaned forward to press a quick kiss to Bucky’s cheek before pulling back, but Bucky wasn’t finished talking. “I want you to stay on the edges,  _ please _ don’t get into the thick of it,” Bucky asked, his voice quiet, his eyes downcast. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you again.”

Clint felt shell shocked as he watched the enemy troops flood the field. From his position he could see the building where he had been held and it really looked much nicer on the outside than it did on the inside. That was probably a really weird thing to admit, but hey-no one had ever called him normal.

There weren’t as much as many a big boss battle would expect, but the group looked fierce and Clint would have been worried had he not had complete and utter faith in his partner and friends.

Bucky had briefly explained the whole magic world thing, but he must have sensed that Clint was retaining nothing because he had stopped talking, his eyes had gone soft and he had explained that he would catch Clint up on everything he wanted to know later, when they were home.

All Clint knew was that his friends had...some sort of magical abilities.

Steve and Brock had gotten strength, Natasha had gotten stealth, and Bucky had gotten war.

He still wasn’t sure of any of the technicalities of magic, how they had specifically gotten their magic or how it was grouped, but he knew that what they had was enough to win, to finally get the fuck out of here.

Another thing that he didn’t know was who this enemy was, or what they actually wanted to do with Bucky, and with him by extension. Bucky had mentioned that they had had control of him a long time ago and that he was free now, but that they wanted him back to continue their so called ‘reign of power.’

Apparently it was all just a load of bullcrap.

There were a couple of other faces that he didn’t recognise on hand to help them fight, so Clint felt like this man had more enemies than just Bucky, which was a relief.

Seemed like the magic business was a tighter knit community than Clint thought and aw, man. This meant there would be heaps for him to get up to date with.

As the fight started, it seemed like it was just mindless minions going at everyone with all of their might. Natasha and Brock were working well together like he suspected they always did - protecting each other whilst still watching their own backs and it seemed seamless from so far away. 

Steve was holding his own well also, the shield that Clint had only seen hung as decor in his apartment was now being thrown into face after face and Clint really did not envy anyone who got in the way of it. Tony was nearby, his tech helping to hold his own easily as he also was seemingly tearing the enemy down with ease.

The others that had also gathered to help were shredding through the minions that were brought against them and damn if it wasn’t a powerful sight, one that made Clint itch to get amongst the action as well.

All thoughts left as he locked eyes on Bucky.

Bucky, who was going up against what looked to be the villain of the day and suddenly his breath left with his thoughts as he looked towards the thing Bucky was fighting.

Green and red armour.

Horns.

Clint swore as he saw the giant. It was terrifying and should have grabbed all his attention, but all he could focus on was some sort of greenish grey mist that swirled around Bucky’s fists. Bucky seemed to be completely focused, his mouth moving. He was stood firmly, his feet planted, and Clint would bet his entire archery shop that Bucky was staring down the beast.

The next thing he knew, Bucky was raising his hands and a big swirl of bluish grey mist hit the monster. The beast fell back, and Clint felt a surge of pride.  _ Fuck yeah, _ he thought.  _ That’s my fucking boyfriend.  _

He didn’t get time to admire the skills of everyone else though, because it only took a moment for one of the minions to grab him, trying to scratch, punch any piece of Clint he could get. Clint pulled back with a start before he started scrabbling at something to grasp, anything.

Finally, he managed to grasp a rock, smashing it against the side of the minion’s head. The man fell back with a groan and a splurt of red blood. Clint stepped back and inspected his hand, groaning when he saw the cut on the side of his hand. But almost immediately, a green glow came from within his skin, and the cut seemed to vanish.

Once again, he didn’t have time to start thinking about it too much before he heard a growl from behind him. Clint whirled around and felt his heart sink when he saw the whole group of minions that were stalking towards him.

Fuck. 

Clint really, really, really,  _ really _ wanted his bow right about now.

Being chased into the middle of the battle wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be, but luckily for Clint, Bucky hadn’t spotted him yet.

Tony had though, and greeted him with a manic grin before he threw something towards him. Clint caught it with fumbling hands and grinned when he realised it was a bow. When he looked up, Tony grinned at him before yelling, “Shoot as much as you want! You’ll never run out!”

Who was Clint but to accept that challenge? 

The minions didn’t stop coming, but they seemed to get stronger and stronger.

All thoughts of Bucky, of anyone else seemed to fade from his mind as Clint focused what he did best. Aim, breathe, release. Aim, breathe, release. Enemies dropped like flies as he whirled around, arrows shooting through the air. And for the first time in a month and a half, Clint felt somewhat like himself again. This? This he could do.

Clint heard a shout and released an arrow preemptively, standing up from his covered position and scanning the field with hurried yet perceptive eyes. He was pleased to note his arrow still hit his target, but once his eyes locked onto Bucky knocked to the ground and not moving, nothing else seemed to matter.

Not even that the bad guy was lying besides Bucky, or the fact that the minions were either retreating or dying in the face of the fallen leader.

All that mattered was Bucky.

Clint sprinted across the field, ignoring the calls from his friends as he rushed and collapsed at Bucky’s side, carefully pulling his body over closer to Clint. He couldn’t help from petting all over his body before he got to his face.

This time it was his turn to cup Bucky’s face in his hands. “Bucky! Buck...are-are you okay?”

Groaning was all he got in response and it only made Clint panic more. He looked down Bucky’s body again and couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath when he looked to Bucky’s left side and noticed that Bucky’s arm was barely connected to his shoulder.

Clint barely managed to avoid gagging as he went to grab Bucky’s arm before pulling back. Words kept falling from his mouth, mindless sentences that hardly made sense. Clint could feel panic bubbling in his chest as he sat back, helpless as he was forced to sit and watch as the man he loved bled out in front of him. 

“Buck, Bucky, Bucky, Bucky oh-Oh lord no. You can’t do this to me, you can’t!”

Listless eyes dragged their way to Clints face as he watched Bucky drag in a heaving breath. “You know something else about magic, Clint?”

Clint almost sobbed but instead he clutched at Bucky’s body. “What’s that, Buck?”

Bucky smiled another one of those sad smiles, though it looked more pained than anything else as he kept taking gasping breaths. He felt loosely for Clint’s wrist and when he found it, he held on tight to it, squeezing with what Clint hoped wasn’t the last of his energy, “It always comes,” another heave, “at a price.”

Bucky’s death was not like Clint had expected.

Clint had always expected Bucky to die surrounded by his friends, surrounded by love. That was mainly based on the fact that Bucky had once told Clint that he knew his fate was to be surrounded by war for the rest of his life, it was his fate to die in the cold hands of warfare.

Clint had also expected it to be fast, painless, something Bucky deserved after the life he had endured, but instead it seemed to cling, like he was fighting for each breath, for each second that he continued looking at Clint, any  _ God _ did Clint love this man.

Wishful thinking is a lot further from the truth than some might try to make it to be, though. 

Mostly, Bucky’s death was not like Clint had expected.

Because Bucky didn’t die.

When everything is said and done, when they’re sitting in the hospital later, Clint honestly can’t recall most of what happened after he ran to Bucky. He knows he had tears flowing from his eyes before he even hit the ground, and he knew that he was panicking a lot by the time that Bucky made the comment about magic.

Honestly, he was panicking about it so much still that he forgot about that comment at all until Steve sat down beside him.

“You saved his life.”

Around the room, Bucky was unconscious with Natasha and Brock sitting in the chairs beside him. Tony was off talking to the doctors about whatever idea he had managed to come up with now that would help the situation and Clint had taken the furthest seat away from the bed for himself.

Clint furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at Steve, “How did I? All I did was panic. I kept wanting to touch his arm, I kept touching  _ him _ . I probably would have done more harm than good.”

Steve smiled at Clint, big and warm, and he held his palm out, “Give me your hand.”

With a sigh, Clint placed his hand on Steve’s palm. Honestly, all he really wanted to do was stop and go back in time to where he didn’t know about any of this, go back in time where it was just him, Bucky and Lucky safe at home.

Steve started massaging his hand, digging in in certain areas and Clint couldn’t help but stare as he saw the green of his veins, “What is that?”

“When you were taken, what do you remember?”

Clint took his hand from Steves and cradled it to his chest, running his own thumb over the emerald colour, “I… I think they injected me with something… I’m not sure what it was but,” he furrowed his eyebrows as he thought back, “it felt like the worst pain I’ve ever felt, and then… I had no marks, no bumps, nothing on my body at all. I had a cut on my wrist, and it was completely gone. Like nothing was even there, even though it had been bleeding only hours before.”

Steves smile turned sad as he clasped a hand on Clint’s shoulder, “It’s a well known fact that I used to be skinny, sickly and small. It’s not so well known that it’s because of a special type of magic running through my veins,” Steve showed Clint his own hand now, the vibrant blue of his veins almost exactly the same as Clints, “I was lucky. It made me stronger, made me immune. Granted my wish. Others, like Bucky, weren’t so lucky.”

“They didn’t wish.”

“No. They were forced. I know Bucky’s told you his is for war, for fighting. That’s why it’s black. Yours though, yours is for healing. It’s why you were able to heal your wounds, your body did it subconsciously to survive. When you saw Bucky in pain and on the brink of death, though, when you touched his arm, there was enough raw emotion in you that your powers stopped the bleeding by healing the skin over the stump of his arm almost immediately.” 

Steve stopped and looked at Clint with a sad but resigned smile. “You saved him, Clint. You.”

Clint didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. He stood up from his seat and made his way over to Bucky’s left side where the lower part of his arm used to be. Clint can remember it so clearly, warm smooth skin that used to wrap around Clint when he was cold, the same arm he used to hug Clint closer during tough nights, the same arm that Clint used to trace absently with his fingers when he was bored. It’s gone now, a fully healed over stump in place of what used to be living breathing flesh.

Just like what Steve had said.

Clint sighed softly as he brushed his hand over the skin, slightly weirded out to find that it was completely smooth, no sign of scarring. He also couldn’t help but feel sad when he saw the cut on the side of Bucky’s face, sadness filling his face as he gently dragged his finger across it.

Once again, a green glow seeped through Clint’s skin, and he swore softly to himself as the cut knitted together, a red scar showing for a second before it vanished into green smoke.

Clint held his breath as he waited for Bucky to wake up or perhaps move, but Bucky stayed steadfastly asleep. Clint let go of a breathe he didn’t know he was holding as he caressed his partners now clear skin, wondering what the fuck had happened to him.

Later, when Bucky woke, Clint was right there beside him.

Clint smiled gingerly, taking Bucky’s hand in his own.

Bucky clutched on to his own hand and when he looked at Clint and smiled, all dopey and loving, Clint couldn’t be gladder that this man was his.

Clint had spent too much time with blood on his hands.

He’d spent a lot of time ignoring how he grew up and the people he grew up with. As he entered adulthood, he tried to surround himself with good people, but no one was entirely good and so by the time he met Steve and Natasha, and with them, Sam, Brock and Bucky’s other friends, he was starting to see more of the truths of life.

Some people talked about red strings, tying people together. Fate. Destiny. Some sort of pre-written life. Something that ran through the course of people’s lives, tying their worlds together.

Clint didn’t believe in fate or destiny. The only thing that seemed to tie his life together was death. He only recognised blood, not red string, blood; a reminder that no matter what he did, he could never, ever, escape who he was, or the mistakes he’d made.

Clint still spends too much time with blood on his hands.

Yes, it was still strangers blood more often than not, except this time, instead of taking lives, it was to help them.

He looked over at Bucky, who was in between slumber and awareness on the other side of the couch. He noticed Clint’s gaze a few moments later and gave him a dopey smile, heaving himself up and then collapsing on top of Clint, who in return just wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, soaking in the time they got together.

Bucky still spends a lot of time travelling for work, except now when Bucky goes, Clint goes with him.

Where Bucky feels like he’s ending too many lives with the magic in his hands, he now knows that Clint’s now able to save them as well.

It took awhile for Clint to stop relying on his strongest emotions for his magic to be used. Now, they come easier, more like an instinct and less of an emotional onslaught. It took awhile for him to feel comfortable using his power, let alone to get anywhere near as good at using them, but luckily for Clint, his friends were always needing patched up one way or another and were okay with being practiced on.

From his position on the couch, Clint could feel Buck’s sleepy kisses pressed to his neck. He let out a low hum, enjoying the moment, enjoying the peace.

Which, of course, was when Bucky’s emergency ringtone started to blare from his jacket. 

Groaning, he could up to answer, “Hello? Yeah. Yes, he’s with me. Yeah. Oh? Yeah, okay. We’ll be there. Text me the details. Yup-see you soon.”

“Guess we got somewhere to be, huh?”

Clint stood and Bucky smiled, coming closer to wind his arms around Clint’s waist and pull him closer.

“Where would I be without my medic to right my wrongs?”

“Where would I be without my fighter to send broken souls my way?”

Bucky chuckled, pressing a kiss to Clint’s cheek before walking away, “Luckily for everyone involved, you’re always here to come to the rescue.”

Yeah.

Getting back from the whole situation hadn’t been easy, but with the help of Bucky and his friends, it had been a better transition than what could have been.

Sharing experiences with Bucky hadn’t hurt either.

As Clint followed Bucky out the door, he felt a surge of gratitude and love flood his chest as Bucky gave him a sweet kind smile. From now on, they were inseparable. A package deal. Clint smiled and reached a hand out to gently lace his fingers with Bucky. From now on; no matter where he went, Clint would always be home. Bucky pulled him gently out the door by their interlaced hands, and Clint followed easily, stepping out of their apartment and into the world. 

Onwards and upwards.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know your thoughts!  
find me on tumblr @/natasharomanovs


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